The air is damp and stale. There's no breeze or movement.

I'm stuck in a room, she realizes. She squints around, but there's nothing to see. The musty air matches the rest of the atmosphere. It's the most pitch-black, ominous darkness she's ever seen—or not seen—before. As her eyes focus and adjust to her surroundings, a figure lurking in the shadows slowly makes himself visible.

Definitely ominous.

"Who are you?" she asks. The sound is simultaneously ear-splitting and timid, muffled by a cloth over her mouth. If the figure hears her, they give no indication. She tries speaking again, but her lungs feel heavy.

What's going on? Was I kidnapped?

She attempts to move her arms, but finds them impaired by a strap. Definitely kidnapped.

The figure moves closer, with a single slow and methodical step. Why was she kidnapped? Who is the figure in front of her? She tries scanning for more clues. There are a few items and furnishings on the outskirts of her vision, but her eyes seem blurry.

Her kidnapper takes another step closer to her, and she can see how frail their figure looks.

It doesn't make them any less ominous.

As her kidnapper steps right up to her, she feels full-blown panic. Her compounding fears only worsen as she keeps thinking about this strange, spontaneous situation. What was she doing before they kidnapped her? She can't remember.

The kidnapper reveals a sharp object from their sleeve, reflecting an invisible light. She can still barely see the faint outline of her attacker, but the blade is crystal clear and defogs as it reaches for her. Finally, more details reveal themselves to her. The man in front of her stands tall, with perfect back posture and one arm behind their back. The arm equipped with the sharp object sports a red armband and an old hand.

Her eyes snapped open. She was staring at the ceiling, panting and drenched in sweat. It took her a moment to realize that she was back in her own bed, unrestrained and not kidnapped.

"Thank God," she said aloud. "It was just a nightmare."

Just a nightmare, she repeated to herself in her head. Right?

A beeping filled the silence as she tried to recover from the unpleasant experience. Was that a lucid dream? She'd never had one, but it felt very real. Her heart kept its fast pace.

If that was lucid dreaming, I think I'd rather stick with normal dreaming for the rest of my life.

Finally, she recognized the beeping. This time, she'd set her alarm clock way too quiet. If her strange nightmare hadn't woken her up this early, she wasn't sure she would have woken up on time at all.

"I'll need to fix that again," she told herself, writing a reminder on a sticky note.

She nicely straightened out her thick blanket sprinkled with gear artwork, fluffed her pillows, adjusted her "Sparky the Spark Dog" stuffed animal, and kicked off her morning routine. It all started with walking along the wall.

She'd had the same living space for all three years, so she knew pretty much everything about it. Every morning in the dark, she would brush a dent in the drywall. In the wall next to her bed, a secret compartment held all of her drawings. There was also an additional light switch compartment in the bathroom, where her solitary form of defense, a switchblade with a purple frame, sat untouched. She hoped she would never have to use it.

After changing into her uniform, she grabbed her goggles from the receptacle and a random mug from one of her cabinets. Today was definitely a coffee day. With a quick peep at her reflection in the mirror, she was out of the room and on her way to the study hall.

Gogs was staring at his watch impatiently. She walked over to the coffee counter, bracing for a lecture.

"So, Cog," he said, "I finally opened up that new watch case, because I figured it had collected dust for long enough. It's got all these amazing features, including a whistle, an alarm, and bulletproof glass." He tapped the watch against the table for effect. The glass made a sharp ping noise each time. "But do you know what the watch doesn't have? A ten-minute setback." He crossed his arms, clearly joking.

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"Sorry, guys," she responded, "I set my alarm too quiet instead of too loud this time and it didn't wake me up the first time." She poured coffee into her randomly chosen mug, the words "Hot Punk" on it.

"Hot Punk?" Gogs asked, a sly smile on his face.

"Well, the coffee already has the steam," she explained, noting both Gogs and Sprocket had the same sly expression. "I just need to bring the hot and the punk."

"You might have the punk, but it'll be hard to get the hot," Sprocket joked, an evil grin plastered across his face. She stared angrily, cradling the coffee in her hands as she walked towards the table.

"If looks could kill, Sprocket," Gogs said, "her eyes would have pierced right through you."

"No need to stare," Sprocket said. "I know I look good."

"Say, Cognition, how about we go get breakfast? We haven't done that in a while."

Breakfast.

"Say no more," she said, imagining the meal in her head. Eggs, a croissant, coffee, and probably ham or sausage. Her stomach rumbled.

"Shouldn't we wait for Sail, too?" Sprocket asked, as Cog made a break for the door.

"Oh yeah," she replied, her dream of a balanced breakfast dissipating in front of her.

Now that she was thinking about eating, the wait for Sail seemed unbearably long. It actually only took a few minutes for Sail to arrive, carrying her own plate of food. She approached the table and realized that all three of them were staring at her. There was an awkward exchange of eye contact before Sail finally asked, "Did I do something?"

"No," Gogs responded. "We were just going to wait for you so that we could all go get breakfast together, but apparently that won't be happening."

"Oh, sorry. I was starving," she said, stuffing bacon and eggs into her mouth.

"Well, let's get going then," Cog said, bounding for the door.

The three left Sail for the dining hall in peace. When they returned about five minutes later with eggs, bacon, and potatoes, a note sitting quietly on the table had replaced her.

Forgot something, be right back!

-Sail

It was a little cryptic, but she hoped they wouldn't interrogate her for it. There was something very important she had to find. She rummaged through her room, nearly in full-blown panic. Where was it? Her left hand covered her left eye as she haphazardly searched, worried someone would peer through her doorway. Clothes, papers, and other items were strewn across her floor as she tore each area apart in search of her missing item.

Found it! She grasped a small rectangular box labeled "green" underneath her sink and fumbled opening it. It contained a small green filter, which was carefully placed on her left eye. She uncovered her eyes and gazed in the mirror. Both green. With a sigh of relief, she placed the old filter in an identical empty box and stepped outside.

"Katie," a voice called out behind her, causing her to jump. She spun around on her heels with tense muscles. Lukas revealed himself, leaning against the wall, glasses falling down his nose.

How long had he been there? She awkwardly scratched her head, looking at him with a mixed expression.

"Lukas," she cautiously returned. What on Earth could he possibly be waiting outside my door for?

"Secrets don't keep once they're airborne," he said, with a nagging, knowing tone. Without warning, he walked away, whistling Deutschland Über Alles.

"You wouldn't dare!" she yelled at him, more fear in her voice than certainty.

"You're right," he responded, "I wouldn't."

Although her skin normally sported rosy cheeks, Sail rejoined the other three in the study hall with sweaty palms and fear etched into the corners of her lips.

"What's wrong, Sail?" Cog asked, interrupting Sprocket's totally interesting story about the time he lost his goggles in Manhattan, which he'd told close to two hundred times.

"Oh, nothing," she responded, distracted. "I'm just feeling cold." It wasn't convincing, but nobody pressed the question. She sat down and glanced at the clock. It took her twenty minutes to get there and back.

"So, what's the topic?"

Another part of Lukas' plan was already in motion. While snooping around, he found out from a teacher that there was an old stash of weapons hidden underneath the teachers' lounge. All he needed to do was clear the room out long enough to sneak inside.

Only one teacher was in the lounge, a large and bulky man who went by Sarge. He was in the middle of reading a book until Lukas appeared in the doorway, acting out of breath. "There's a fight," Lukas fake huffed. "Multiple people in the western dorm quarters."

It was a simple lie, but it did exactly what he wanted it to.

"What?" Sarge asked, his face flushing to a light red. "Stay here. I'll take care of it." He stormed down the hallway, making his way over to where the "fight" was.

When the coast was clear, Lukas slipped into the lounge and closed the door. Not exactly sure how to find the stash, he searched for any hidden buttons or switches. Eventually, he tried one of the light switches on the wall. It turned all the lights off and opened a hatch in the floor, revealing a stockpile of defensive weapons. A ladder rose from the hatch, and he climbed down.

After having to search for the hatch switch, he was short on time to hunt for a suitable weapon. The teacher could come back anytime and expose him and his lie. Without hesitation, he reached for a WWI-era Luger and climbed back up the hatch. It wasn't the best option, but it was sufficient for the job.

He hastily climbed back up the ladder and flipped the switch again. Sarge returned just as the latch sealed shut, with not a second to spare.

"There was no fight when I got there," he said. "You weren't lying to me, were you?"

"Of course not, Sarge. They must have fled the scene before you got there." Lukas did his best to act just as confused as the teacher was. "Thanks for checking, Sarge. I've got to get to the study hall, now."

"Behave yourself, das Gehirn," Sarge said, as Lukas walked away.

"That's the plan," he called back. It was nine o'clock, which meant it was time to begin phase two of his plan.

He securely stowed the Luger away in his backpack.